


Deaf in Dreamland

by JeMeSouviens



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based on a True Story, Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Character, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Harry Styles Calls Louis Tomlinson Pet Names, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Harry's POV, I Love You, I wrote this about myself and my first love, In Bed, It fit with Larry well, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, Louis has bigger hands, M/M, No Sex, POV First Person, Prefer sleeping, Presumed Dead, Romance, Sad Ending, Sad Harry, Short, Short One Shot, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, focus on happiness, might make you sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeMeSouviens/pseuds/JeMeSouviens
Summary: I move my gaze from our hands to his face. He's lazily smiling with sleepy yet happy eyes peering into my own. He holds the gaze for a beat longer before leaning over just enough to press his lips to my elbow.He leans back just enough to resume eye contact, I watch him whisper, "I love you, baby."
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Deaf in Dreamland

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wrote this in a journal about myself and my first love. It's actually based off real life. 
> 
> I made it into Larry because Larry is real and is life.
> 
> This is in Harry's POV.

I see grey walls. A white footboard sits royally where the black comforter disappears, delicate sparkles glitter on the blanket, my feet playing happily under the covers. The feel of fresh sheets and a cloud-like bed create a childlike happiness within me that I can't contain. My hands run over the top of the feather-filled comforter, a squeal of delight erupts from within me.

A large hand covers mine. Turning, I watch the fascinating image of my fiancé's mouth calling me 'baby'. He looks like he just woke up, no doubt from my excited movements, but he doesn't look annoyed. A smile graces his features. His eyes are closed still, but I know he's awake now for the rest of the day. He deserved to get more sleep, but his content smile tells me he's perfectly happy being woken up by my childish antics.

It's not every day that I wake up happy.

Days like this are rare. We both know it, but mentioning it will only ruin the serene atmosphere.

We learned that lesson the hard way.

I feel warm lips delicately kiss my hand. I immediately bring our intertwined hands up to meet my lips. I kiss the spot just below his thumb. This is our morning routine - the intimacy of kissing our joined hands while staring into each other's eyes is something that is uniquely ours.

It's something that never once fails to light up the flame of undeniable love within my heart.

I watch him over our hands, witness the way the morning light filters in through the window and covers his tan skin in a warm glow. I cherish the way his blue eyes sparkle up to mine, his head laying heavily against the black pillow.

He closes his eyes after another second, clearly still tired. I hold our hands closer to my heart, not willing to let go of him yet.

I scooch closer to his side, sneak my feet under his. He no longer shivers at the cold of my toes; he merely lets a half-amused smile show up.

I watch as he attempts to fall back asleep. Both of my small hands holding his much larger one. His hand is soft, in a manly way. His other hand gently grabs onto my shirt, tugging sleepily.

I move my gaze from our hands to his face. He's lazily smiling with sleepy yet happy eyes peering into my own. He holds the gaze for a beat longer before leaning over just enough to press his lips to my elbow.

He leans back just enough to resume eye contact, I watch him whisper, "I love you, baby."

A deep feeling blossoms inside me. I hug our joined hands tighter as tears prick my eyes. In the strongest voice I can muster, I reply, "I love you, honey."

Dread immediately takes over the content feeling I just had. He keeps looking up at me, but his eyes slowly start to dull. I close my eyes tightly, refusing to see that light disappear again.

Tears flow freely, stinging my eyes with the force they use to take over. Even with eyes closed, squeezed shut, I can see his eyes fade. I can't stand it. I force myself to open my eyes, blink through the river that's threatening to drown me.

I'm met with the unpainted, cracked drywall. The scratchy, old sheets rub my skin, cold seeping through whenever I move. It's all a sad reminder of how long I've been alone. The old uncomfortable mattress serving as a rude awakening of the present.

All happy dreams are images of past memories. The once content feeling of waking up now being the biggest dread of being alive.

Curling into a ball, I replay the dream over and over, relishing in how it felt just like it had that one fall morning when life was still worth living. Now, the lack of his voice is dreadful. I always have dreams with him, but his voice isn't there. My memories hear him, but he never makes noise in my dreams. But I've noticed lately, nothing in my dreams make noise.

I'm deaf in dreamland.

But in dreamland, he's still alive.

I would much rather live in that realm than the current one where I can only see his face in pictures.


End file.
